


World Gone Mad

by Liebhot



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: 1942, F/M, Gen, World War II
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-08-29 08:07:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16740247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liebhot/pseuds/Liebhot
Summary: When Joe Liebgott leaves San Francisco to join the paratroopers at the start of World War Two, he leaves behind his five siblings, parents, and best friend. Armed with the electricity of the city he grew up in, Joe goes to Europe to fight alongside the men of Easy Company. With them, there is also a Private Megan Petro, the only girl in the entire US Airborne. Through their eyes, we see Megan for everything she is and follow the group of soldiers from Camp Toccoa to VJ Day.





	1. Saying Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> This is based off of the fictional portrayal of Liebgott in Band of Brothers and is in no way meant to be disrespectful towards the real men of Easy Company.  
> Liebgott in this story is a Jewish cab driver from San Francisco as he was in the television series.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 7, 1941. Joseph Liebgott, enraged by the events of Pearl Harbor, decides he’s going to join the army. But this means saying goodbye to his 5 siblings, parents, and best friend. And wondering if Death will take him before he can come home.

Joe’s POV

December 7, 1941 was when it all began.

"How much farther?" Ruthie whined.  
"Just a few minutes kiddo." I told her, readjusting my hand in Peter's. Every Sunday I took my little siblings back from temple since my parents would leave before us. I didn't see why we had to stay when they left but I didn't argue. Taking the kids home was a lot harder than my parents thought. It was like herding sheep. With Susan always skipping ahead and leaving my sight, causing two heart attacks per five minutes and Miles always getting distracted by something, falling behind Ruthie, Peter, Jack, and I.  
I was out of school, now 18 years old. But I had rarely attended high school for my junior and senior year. Times were tough for the family then. My little brother Jack had just been born on top of us already going to bed hungry and walking to temple in ripped dress pants and mended stockings.  
The depression hit us hard. My dad lost his job as a barber and could barely make a few dollars doing small jobs for the rich people on the other side of the river. So I stopped going to school and got a job at the cab company which was only two blocks away from our apartment.  
My parents were upset that I had pretty much dropped out. But I didn't really care. Driving a cab and feeding my family was way better than trudging to math class and getting into fights with assholes who made fun of me because I'm Jewish.  
It felt good to come home with something to go with my mom's soup cooking on the stove and sometimes even some tobacco for my dad that I'd trade guys at work for.  
But then one day, they fired me. They couldn't pay my wages anymore.  
"Are you serious? I can't go home and tell my parents I have no food for us tonight."I told my boss.  
"I'm sorry Joe. We just can't pay you anymore. Times are tough for us too."  
"You can cut my pay."  
"Joe-"  
"Please, anything helps. Just a few cents a day. Please. I've got five little ones at home and my dad lost his job."  
"The bank is shutting the company down. We can't pay our bills. I'm so sorry son, I really wish I could help."  
And just like that, we were broke again.  
I could hear Miles crying from hunger pains that night.  
I went to his bed with some stale crackers. "It's all I could find." I whispered.  
He wiped his tears away with the sleeve of his pajama shirt and took the crackers. I stroked his hair.  
"Can you tell me a story?" He asked meekly. I pondered the idea. It was late and I was exhausted. But his little eyes looked at me with such desperation for a little magic in our dark cramped room that I couldn't possibly tell him no. I picked a book up from the table and lit a candle. He snuggled into the crook of my shoulder and followed along with his eyes. He fell asleep soon after I finished the chapter and I covered him with a blanket.  
It was a nightly routine. Going to each of the kids' beds and giving them whatever morsels of food I could find. Then they'd ask me to stay and tell them a story or sing or just lay with them.  
They were so scared and hungry and miserable, it broke my heart. So I'd do what they asked and seeing that I could help, if only until they fell asleep, well it was like a dose of medicine for me.  
After I lost my job, I tried going to school again. That fizzled out quickly.  
"Hey Jew boy! Haven't seen you in a while. You miss us?" The big one taunted as he grabbed the collar of my shirt and slammed me into the locker.  
I was a skinny, 100 pound sixteen year old boy. I was darting brown eyes and a maze of freckles. But the electricity of the city filled my veins. It made me. I knew from the moment I entered it that it wasn't going to let me leave without a fight. So my frowning mouth turned into a sneer. My eyes sparkled. "Let me at em." I thought.  
And I spit in his face. He was stunned for a moment. I shoved him off me. His bulky friend grabbed me and another one punched me in the gut. I keeled over. If I had eaten anything, I would've thrown up. Luckily, I hadn't.  
The big one laughed above me. I looked up at him. He wiped my spit from his face and kicked me. I let them laugh and then I stood up. My grandfather's voice wrung in my head.  
"You always go for the eyes, knees, and groin Joe. They go down and you finish them." My mother always said I was like my grandpa. Snarky and rough around the edges. A little broken, a little mad. With a spark in my eyes and sorrow in my heart.  
"You're too caring for your own good Joey. It's gonna hurt you one day, loving people so much." She would tell me when I came home with black eyes and cut lips after beating up boys on the playground for calling my father Jew trash and my mother a slut.  
I knew it would ruin me. It always did, loving people. When my grandpa died, I didn't eat for ten days. I drank water and slept as I stayed locked in my room. I hated the world for taking him away. Then on the eleventh day Miles stood outside my door with the record player he'd wheeled over. He played my grandpa's favorite song. And I came out to hug him. He made me promise I would eat and I did because I saw how much it hurt him and the kids. They already lost my grandpa. They didn't need to lose me too.  
A shrill voice brought me back to the present. "Ready for round 2 Jew boy?"  
I looked at his burly friends and down at my small clenched fists. "Yeah. But I want a fair fight. You and me. No knives or nothin'."  
"Fine." He spat at the ground and got in a ridiculous fighting position. He put his fists up like a boxer and bounced a little on his toes. I had to suppress the urge to laugh. I calmly approached him, the San Francisco energy pulsing through me at once, like I had stepped on a telephone wire and got a mild shock.  
"You ready?" He asked.  
"Yeah. Oh one more thing."  
"What?"  
"Don't call me Jew boy." With that, I punched him in his right eye. He stumbled back and fell. I stood my ground. I waited for his friends to pound me but they just looked.. shocked.  
"Come on Keith. Get up bud." One said.  
Keith stood up. Blood was on his cheek. He came at me. I punched him in the gut but he didn't keel over like I wanted him to. He punched me in the nose. I could feel the warm blood run down my lips. I quickly wiped it away with my sleeve. I looked him in the eyes. I could see fear.  
"Come on man, cream this son of a bitch!" His friend called to him.  
"Shut up, Will!" He spat. He stared at me wondering what to do next. He was trapped now. He knew he had to fight me to impress his friends. I didn't want to hit him again. Looking at him with blood slowly trickling down from the cut I gave him by his eye, he was like a wounded animal. But what was I gonna do? Let him beat me up? Walking those hallways was daily survival from pain and humiliation. I was already called a coward for leaving school. If I ran now, I'd be daily prey. Even if I left school I knew they'd find me. If not me, then Miles or Peter. Even the girls. There was always someone for them to torment. No, I had to hit him again and end this.  
I waited for him to try and punch me again. But he didn't. Like a bull, he plowed into me. I went down with him on top of me. The tile floor seemed to break underneath me although I knew it was just my imagination. He punched me in the stomach. I felt dizzy. I tried to push him off me put he had me pinned down. He was too heavy. There was no way I could get him off me.  
"Get off me you creep! Leave me alone! Fuck off! Just get off me you bastard!" I yelled. I spit on his face again but he had grown wise to my tricks. He lifted one hand off my shoulder and reached into his pocket. I knew what he was doing before I saw the glinting metal blade.  
"We said no knives." I said softly. "We said no knives you lying fuck! Get off me!" He laughed. It was a face of pure hatred that I gave him. He was no longer a wounded animal now that I had shown mercy. I had only given him permission to gut me. He shifted all his weight onto me, crushing my lungs. I couldn't breathe.  
"Do it Keith. Rip the Jew open!" One of the friends called.  
Keith raised the knife up to my face and pondered on where to cut first.Then something pulled him off me. I saw only dark hands as Keith's weight was lifted. I heard him being slammed against the lockers. I coughed, the air I had lost refilling my lungs. I heard footsteps clacking on the hallway. Keith's friends had ran.  
"I was just playin around man. I wasn't gonna actually hurt him." I heard Keith nervously pleading.  
I looked up. A huge colored boy was holding Keith up by his shirt. Big, jock Keith looked like a frightened child next to this boy. He was of towering size compared to me with muscles protruding from under his plaid shirt. His voice was low and rough tinged with an accent I had never heard before when he said "Never touch that boy again, you hear me? Not you or any of your friends. You leave him alone. Got it?"  
"Yeah man. I won't go near him. Just let me go please." Keith begged. The boy let go of him and he ran.  
Then the colored boy walked toward me. "You alright?"  
I nodded. He held out his hand. I took it. He practically ripped my arm off helping me up.  
"Thanks. You just saved my ass, big time." I told him.  
He nodded shyly. "Why were they beating you up?"  
"I'm a Jew." I explained.  
"Oh." He answered like he knew exactly what I meant.  
"Do you go to this school?" I asked him.  
He looked at me funny, with his brows furrowed.  
"No." He finally answered. "I live a couple of blocks from here. I cut across the school lot to get there. When I was passing I heard screaming and I ran in."  
"Well thanks again. I'm Joe. It's nice to meet you." I held out my hand. He stared at it looking confused. I curled my fingers in and dropped my arm back to my side, feeling embarrassed.  
"Hey man, I'm sorry. I'm just not used to white folks bein' so nice to me. I'm Xavier." He said softly. I nodded but I didn't really know what he meant. My family was always nice to colored folks and they were nice to us. I was kind of confused. But I decided to change the subject.  
"Where you from?" I asked.  
"Texas." He replied.  
"Oh you're from the Midwest." I said. I had heard my parents talking about people from the Midwest coming over from the prairie trying to find jobs.  
"Yeah." He said quietly.  
I realized I had unknowingly made a guy who just saved me from getting sliced by an asshole feel really uncomfortable. I wasn't doing too well at making a good first impression. "Listen, I'm not too good at introductions. I didn't mean to offend you or nothing.' I just never met anyone from Texas before and my parents said that a lot of you are coming over to find jobs."  
He kind of chuckled but then his voice when serious again. "Yeah, we came over because our crops all failed. We had nothin' to sell and nothin' to eat. We were getting ready to move when the dust came. Drove us out real fast. And you ain't offendin' me. Like I said, I'm just not used to being treated well by white folks."  
I heard a little about the dust he was talking about but I had another question to ask. "What do you mean by white folks not treating you nice?"  
Again he looked at me a little confused. "Well.. we ain't equal according to them. They don't like us. They don't want us to be around them. That's why I don't go to school here. They don't want me to be in with white children."  
"But me and the colored folks get along just fine. Maybe it's just different in Texas."  
"Maybe.." He said softly.  
I hadn't known it then but that tall burly boy would become my best friend. I'd get him in a lot of trouble and he'd clean up my acts. I was a crazy kid and he was shy. We balanced each other out. People couldn't understand why we got along so well, why a colored boy from Texas and an angry Jewish boy could form a bond. They didn't understand because they didn't grow up the way we did. We were kids who didn't give in to what people wanted us to believe. With Xavier I had my first piece of pork. I spewed it all up. We both laughed. He bought me my first cigarette. I choked. We laughed. I tried another. I got him a job at the cab company once I got mine back in May of 1940. And it was with Xavier that I heard the news of what would change my life forever.

After I took the kids back home I headed to the cab company. I had the day off but I decided to hang around there with the other cabbies. X was there along with about 10 other guys. We sat around the small table in the office and played cards. We were listening to the radio. "Only Forever" by Bing Crosby was playing. Then it was cut off. The announcer started to speak "...We interrupt this program-" A guy named Tommy Jenson turned it off. "Blah, blah, blah.." He mocked. We all laughed. Then Dave Stowe ran in. "Turn on the radio." He said, out of breath.  
"Why?" X asked.  
"Just do it."  
I turned on the radio. Through the static, we listened intently.  
"Pearl Harbor has been bombed by the Japanese..."  
Silence hung in the air for a good thirty seconds after that statement. Then the room erupted with words of shock and panic. Me? My thoughts, as they always somehow did, turned to the overpowering desire for revenge. I pushed past the men and headed for the door. In the daze of a mad- man I wandered down the empty street, everything seeming fuzzy. My body shook with unnatural anger, my eyes straight ahead of me, entirely too focused on points of invisible energy. There it was again, that electricity in my veins, fueling me. I was out for blood.  
I found myself at the sign-up post at the back of a line so dense it had become a misshapen blob of young men wanting answers, wanting action. They were loud, shouting and yapping about what we all had heard on the radio. Then a voice broke out from the rest. It was rough and deep, tinged with a still unfamiliar accent.  
"Joe!"  
"X, why'd you follow me?" I asked as he shoved past a group of guys who'd joined the blob of men after me.  
"You can't do this." He said, a grave look on his face.  
"What the hell, X? You ain't the boss of me!" I told him, turning away.  
"Joe, listen to me," He grabbed my shoulder. "You'll get killed out there. You aren't an army guy okay? You're an eighteen year old skinny kid from San Francisco. You can't take on the Japs. You'll... you could die okay? I said it. You could die. Your family needs you. Don't do this."  
I knew he was right. I wasn't the G.I. my grandfather wanted me to be. I wasn't strong or skilled. I was just an angry kid looking for something to pound my fists into. I was 120 pounds with no muscles, no intimidating looks, and most of all, no power. How could I take on trained men born for war when I couldn't even take on a bulky kid with no brains and no plans?  
But then I looked around. There were boys smaller and younger than me, all ready to fight, not even thinking about turning back. I didn't want to run away. I wanted to run into battle. 

But what if I was just running to Death?

I didn't have to think about it. A man came outside and told us we couldn't join yet. We weren't officially at war. I looked at Xavier.  
"Just don't do it okay? I gotta get home. Remember what I said." He left.  
That night, the city had a curfew. Everyone had to be indoors at 7:00. We were supposed to have the lights off but our lights were on. On the streets, everyone was scared. But at home, it was different. My father was calm. So was my mother. The kids were scared. And so was I. We listened to the radio, hoping for some more information. Jack was sitting on the rug, playing with his little green toy soldiers. "Pow!" He said as he dropped one to the floor. He was three years old but he already knew how it worked.  
"They said to turn the lights off mama." Susan said as she clutched my leg.  
My mother, without looking up, said "It will be over soon."  
My father lit a candle. "Those no good Japs don't have the courage to bomb San Francisco." I didn't have the courage to tell him he was wrong.  
"I'm scared Joey." Susan said.  
I wanted to say "Me too." But I couldn't. I knew I had to be strong for them.  
"Come on." I said. "Lets go sit in my room." I grabbed the candle my father had lit and headed to my room which I shared with Miles and Peter. Ruthie and Susan shared a smaller room down the hall and Jack slept in my parents' room on a small bed. I placed the candle on the nightstand. It lit the area around my bed slightly, creating shadows on the wall. The kids piled onto my bed, the biggest one in the room. We huddled together, quietly listening to the radio playing in the kitchen, our parents talking softly.  
"Are we gonna get bombed?" Jack asked.  
"Of course we are, stupid." Peter told him.  
"Hey," I intervened. "Don't talk to your brother like that."  
"It's true, Joe. We're gonna get bombed. They bombed Pearl Harbor and now they're gonna bomb us." Miles sobbed.  
"No Miles," I said as I wiped a tear from his cheek. "We're not. No one is gonna hurt us. You gotta trust me. Okay?" Miles always was a softhearted kid. He was ashamed of that, wanted to be tough and brave. But I always thought him to be a brave kid. Sometimes, more than anything, it takes courage to let yourself cry, to let yourself break a little. "No one is gonna hurt us."  
"How do you know?" Jack whispered.  
I didn't know. In fact, I was absolutely terrified. But once again, I couldn't say it. I had to be brave. I had to keep them safe from the ways of the world. For as long as I could, I would protect them.  
"Because I won't ever let anyone hurt you kids. I'm gonna do everything I can to keep you safe. I promise." And as I said that, I realized what I needed to do. I wasn't a G.I. kind of guy. I was just a skinny kid from San Francisco. But I loved those kids and I would do anything for them. I would kill and die for them. And that's when I decided I was going to join the army.  
As if he was reading my mind Miles asked in his timid sad voice, "Are you gonna join the army, Joe?"  
"Yeah kiddo. I am."  
They were quiet. Then Jack crawled to me and pulled on my hand. I uncurled my fingers and he placed something onto my palm. It was one of his little toy soldiers.  
"For good luck." He whispered.  
"Thank you, Jack." I told him. He crawled into my lap, wrapping his arms around my neck. I hugged him.  
"Joey, will you fight the bad guys real quick so you can get home?" He asked.  
"I'll try."  
Ruthie started to cry. "Hey, I ain't saying goodbye just yet. I'm gonna come home."  
"Promise?" Peter asked.  
"Promise." I said.  
The conversation with my parents after the kids fell asleep was one I always try to forget. The way my mom looked at me, like I was already laying inside a casket. The one with X the next day was surprisingly less painful. He finally nodded and said he understood after about ten minutes of me explaining my madness to him. He even came with me to the sign up post as President Roosevelt had officially declared war. 

I knew what I was doing was insane. But I was an insane person. And I knew that if I didn't go run at Death, he would find me. And he would punish me for making him wait. Perhaps I was saying goodbye. But it was what I had to do.


	2. The Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joe’s first day at Camp Toccoa and the introduction of Megan Petro, his best friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Megan is a fictional character that will be seen through the eyes of the men of Easy Company, mainly Liebgott.  
> This story is a work of fiction and is in no way meant to be disrespectful to the real men of Easy.

Joe’s POV

My first day at Toccoa, I walked into the room where our bunks were. Men from all over the country were talking loudly, laughing, and scrambling to find a bunk in the huge crowd of new faces. I found a bunk a little towards the back of the room and plopped my bag on the top before climbing into it myself. It wasn't long before the men around me introduced themselves. There was Wynn who would later become known as Popeye, Chuck Grant, and Floyd Talbert. I heard other voices near us talking about places they'd grown up and I'd never seen. They discussed the action we thought we'd see and how eager they were to get out there. It seemed all the voices died down the moment she walked in.  
She stood in the doorway, her dark brown eyes staring back at all of us as we watched her, shocked. We wondered what she was going to do next, as if we'd never seen a girl before. But she only adjusted her bag over her shoulder, stood up tall, and began walking down through the rows looking for a bunk. Men whispered as she passed. Then, Roy Cobb snickered.  
"Hey sweetheart! You make a wrong turn? The kitchen's back that way."  
A few men chuckled. But she smiled. Turning around, she looked him in the eyes. And with a sarcastically confused look on her face, said to Cobb, "No, but I think you did. The pig farm's down the road." We all burst out laughing as his smile faded.  
She walked on, victorious.  
It hit me then. No, not love at first sight. It was respect that I felt for her. I suppose that's what made me call out to her when she passed me.  
"Hey," I spoke. "This one's free." I pointed at the bunk beneath me.  
She smiled slightly, and nodded.  
"Joe Liebgott." I reached my hand towards her.  
She raised her arm hesitantly at first and then shook my hand. "Petro. Megan Petro."

That was the start of it all. 

Megan was 18 when she first got to Toccoa. Some of the men couldn't understand why she had joined the army. But I did. She joined for the same reasons we all did. To fight for our country, and everyone in it. That included the people she cared about most. Her family and friends back home in Poughkeepsie, New York.  
She had five siblings like me, all boys. She learned to fight fast, because she had to protect them. Her younger brothers were Henry, Neil, and Jaime. And her older brothers were Francis and Lucas. Jaime was the youngest, only three when Meg joined up. Neil was five. And Henry was eight. Francis was twenty. Lucas, the oldest, was an asshole. He thought Megan should cook, clean, and be the picture of a "lady." But worst of all, he was horrible to Francis. And that didn't sit well with Meg.  
Francis was gay, but of course no one knew. Only Megan, his tough, gentle, little sister. He knew he could trust her. And she kept his secret.  
When Francis was 18 he was dating a boy named John. One night when they were together, Lucas came home early and caught them kissing. He beat his eighteen year old younger brother limp. John ran in fear and found the only person he could: Megan.  
They found Francis bleeding on the floor of the kitchen as Lucas kicked him in the stomach and chest.  
"Stop!" Megan screamed at him. "You'll kill him!"  
But he wouldn't. So she did what she had to, she pulled out her pocketknife from her tattered overalls and slashed it across Lucas' arm. He yelled in pain.  
"What the fuck are you doing?!" He spat.  
"You get out of here right now and never come back or I'll stab you in the fucking eye, you sick bastard." She held the knife steady in her hand as Lucas kept his on his fresh wound. He left, collecting his things the next day when no one was home, and went to live with a friend in another town.  
John and her took Francis to the hospital, saying he was mugged. He had a cracked rib and a black eye. John and him broke up so they would both be safe.  
Megan and Francis helped their parents take care of the family. When the US declared war, Francis joined immediately. Walking home from the recruitment station, Meg told him, "You're not doing this alone." He knew there was no talking her out of it. She was going to fight. But how would she be allowed to?  
It was quite simple really. She made a deal. If the army didn't let her try to become a paratrooper, she would never let up. She would protest to no end, making them fill out paper after paper after paper. She would be down their throats every day until she was allowed to try. If she failed the test, she failed the test. But she demanded the chance to take the tests every other paratrooper did in order to jump out of airplanes and fight for their country.  
It turns out, Megan would be the only girl in the entire US airborne.  
And it was there at Toccoa, before all the blood shed, that we all became a family.


	3. Three Miles Up, Three Miles Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a story of fiction and is in no way meant to be disrespectful to the real men of Easy Company.

Joe’s POV

“You people are at the position of attention!"  
Captain Sobel's voice rang in our ears.  
He walked through the group, looking for anything he could that wasn't quite perfect in order to reprimand us for it. A long thread on Lipton's chevrons, creases on Perconte's trousers. He stopped at Megan, looking her up and down.  
"Private Petro, I see you've neglected to clean your boots properly. If you want to make it as a paratrooper, I'd suggest you start taking things seriously. Pass revoked."  
I looked over at her, frustration on her face.  
Then he came to me.  
"Name."  
"Liebgott, Joseph D, sir."  
"Rusty bayonet, Liebgott. You wanna kill Germans?"  
"Yes sir."  
He hit my helmet with the bayonet, making me flinch. I held back a fist.  
"Not with this."  
After Sobel told the rest of the men that because of us, everyone lost their weekend passes, we ran into the barracks to change into our PT gear.  
It was time to run.  
I liked running when I was a kid. Going so fast it felt like nothing could stop me. It was freeing, to be able to just get away from everything. But thanks to Sobel, now I hated it. He would yell at us to go faster, telling us we were useless. Three miles up, three miles down. There was no freedom anymore. We were running at his demand. That's what it felt like.  
Sobel was hated by every man in the company. But it made us bond. We'd shoot the shit and laugh at Luz's impersonations.  
"HI HO SILVERRR!" Luz would imitate.  
As much as we hated Sobel, he did make us the soldiers we became. Most of all, he made us a family.

After running for what seemed like forever, we were exhausted. I tripped a bit and Meg grabbed my arm, pulling me back up. Her long light brown hair was pulled into a high bun, now messy.  
"Come on, we can do this. We can make it. Let's get to the top of that hill." Winters encouraged as we ran.  
The next day, it was back to standing at attention, waiting to be ridiculed by Sobel.  
As we got into formation, Cobb slammed into me and kept walking.  
"Hey, watch it bud." I told him.  
He turned to me. "Settle down," Then he looked me up and down and snickered. "Jew boy."  
He took his place in line.  
Suddenly I was back in high school, the jock Keith slamming me into the lockers. I wanted to make Cobb bleed.  
Megan looked at me. I couldn't hold her gaze, my face turning red. I didn't want to embarrass myself. If I hurt him, it would show my rage, the parts of me I tried my best to hide. I couldn't do it. Not in front of her.  
"Hey Cobb." She softly called to him.  
"What?" He asked angrily.  
She gave him the finger. "I hope they shrivel up and fall off."  
I stared at her, admiration mixed with pure shock in my eyes as Luz and Martin stifled their laughs. Then Sobel cut through the mood.  
"What was that, Private?" He asked.  
We stopped laughing.  
"What did you just say?" He stared her down.  
She pursed her lips.  
"I said 'I hope they shrivel up and fall off,' sir."  
Everyone chuckled.  
"Quiet." Sobel said. "You hope what shrivels up and falls off, Private?"  
"...his testicles, sir."  
"You're way out of line, Petro. Get down, hands in a diamond."  
She did so, staying in push up position.  
He started to walk away. Then, something in me, feeling crazy, feeling daring, made me speak.  
"Captain?" I asked.  
"Yes?" He turned, waiting.  
"What if we agree with her?" I asked, smiling.  
He looked shocked, and then pointed his finger at the ground.  
"Yes sir." I got down on the ground, my hands in a diamond. I looked over at Megan. Her deep brown eyes were sparkling. I winked at her.  
Then, George Luz got down with his hands in a diamond.  
Almost every man in the company followed.  
I learned then I didn't have to be afraid of showing emotion around Megan. I could show her the hidden parts of myself. I remembered what I thought of my brother Miles, a sensitive soul. But a brave one. I could let myself break a little. Around her, I could. She saw me for who I was. She was my friend, and we took care of each other. 

The next week we ran in full uniform with all our equipment. It was hell. But we did it.  
We ran through obstacles, under barbed wire draped with the intestines of pigs, over walls. Getting stronger, faster, more precise.  
We learned how to take apart our guns and put them back together. We knew our specialties and became experts in our fields. Meg and I were machine gunners.  
On Friday night, while every other company had off, we marched for 12 miles. No water, full pack, in the dark.  
All of it led up to jumping out of C-47s. 

If anyone refused to jump out of the plane, they would be finished with the airborne. But if we made it, we'd finally be certified army paratroopers. 

"Stand up! Hook up!"  
We did as we were told, 1000 feet above the ground.  
"Check equipment!"  
I checked the equipment of the man in front of me, the man behind me checking mine since we were wearing too much to check ourselves.  
"Sound off for equipment check!"  
Each man behind me said his number followed by his status. It came to me.  
"8 okay!"  
They started to jump. My heart was racing from fear and excitement. I never thought I'd be jumping out of an airplane, but when it came to be my turn, I didn't hesitate. I just jumped.  
"1000, 2000, 3000, 4000." I said, as I freefell through the air. Then I pulled the clip and my parachute opened. I glided to the ground, smiling like a maniac. Four jumps later, I was a paratrooper. Finally.

Our celebration was full of life. We had made it. We drank and sang songs and laughed until our stomachs hurt.  
I handed Megan a drink. She smiled, smoothing a curly piece of hair behind her ear.  
"Well, Joe. Looks like we got our wings after all."  
"Sure did, Meg." I grinned. "We sure did." 

The next day the company left for Camp Mackall in North Carolina. We continued our training and did another jump.  
During a training exercise, Sobel became nervous and made us move from our position. We walked right into the "enemy's" territory. At that moment, Sobel was no longer hated because of his strictness, he was hated because he wasn't a good leader. 

Nonetheless, things were looking up. Every day we all became closer, learning more about each other. We knew all about each other's families and friends. Their hopes, dreams, accomplishments. And I found myself falling hard for Megan.  
She was kind, tough but gentle, smart, snarky, and she didn't take crap from anyone. We were attached at the hip, spending all our time together. She was thunderstorms, bloody knuckles, and gunfire.  
I couldn't help the feelings that were growing. But I couldn't do anything. If Megan made one mistake, she would be kicked out of the airborne. And I couldn't have that happen.


End file.
